


Haus Rules

by Temaris



Series: Haus and Home [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Baking, Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Haus party sequel, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Shitty likes having sex, as much as something that is mostly porn and pie making can be fluff, like a lot, plums
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-16 16:57:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7276264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Temaris/pseuds/Temaris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bitty's had a long day.  And when he gets home, things get better.</p><p>Why <em>Haus Rules</em>? Maybe Shitty broke a Haus Rule. It probably wasn't an important one -- probably being dressed when someone wanted him naked or vice versa. Anyway, technically he's being punished, but I really don't think the guys have got the hang of how positive reinforcement works... (I don't think they actually care. And to be honest, I had a bad day and I wanted something sweet. The pie making just sort of ... happened.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haus Rules

Bitty is exhausted. Up at 4am for practice, then a full load of lectures, diving out to meet Jack at Annie's for lunch, and then Lardo at five to move a ton of art supplies. Carrying a huge sculpture that was light but only barely fit around the turn in the stairwell had been hilarious but frustrating as hell, and his arms burned in a way that they hadn't since he'd stopped ice dancing.

So he's not entirely happy to walk into the kitchen and discover that half the space he uses for baking is occupied by the guys working on their laptops. Holster, Ransom, Jack and Chowder are all sat quietly reading or writing in Ransom's case. He sighs. It's not like the kitchen is really his, he just gets -- proprietary sometimes.

He fishes chilled dough out of the fridge and starts working it. There's a pot of apple filling in the fridge, he thinks, unless one of the guys ate it. It wouldn't be the first time. He goes back to the fridge to get it and glowers at the empty shelf. The apple's gone.

"Whoever had the apple pie filling best be planning on replacing the apples," he says pointedly, and there's a mumble that sounds like Shitty. He glances around, but there's no sign of him, until Holster catches Bitty's puzzled look and points down with a grin.

Bitty bends down, and Shitty is under the table, head between Ransom's legs, cheeks hollowing out and plumping up steadily. The other two both have their dicks hanging out: Jack is soft, and Holster is clearly waiting his turn.

"You're gonna have to do better than suck dick, Shitty B Knight," he grumbles, and Ransom makes a "Nggg," sound in the back of his throat. He closes his eyes, his hands freezing over his keyboard for long seconds, then he takes a deep breath, and drops a hand down onto Shitty's head.

"You'll do fine," Ransom says gently. He flicks an annoyed look at Bitty, who bites his lip.

"What--"

"Bad day," Jack says tersely, and turns the page of his book. Bitty isn't entirely sure that he's actually reading it, but he's not about to ask, not with that look of burgeoning disapproval.

Bitty shuts the fridge with a snap. "Haven't we all," he mutters, and digs out the punnet of plums that he'd thought about making a galette with. He's got everything, but it's not what he'd planned on making, and that's throwing him off, like this whole day has been throwing him off. He stones the plums quickly, quartering most, leaving a few as halves for reducing, slapping the knife down a little harder than necessary with each cut.

Halved plums in the pan, add spices, brown sugar. He prods at the pan, then lines his baking sheet. Galette always looks rough and ready, and it can make a hell of a mess -- it's like someone heard of a pie and thought it was just too much effort.

In the circumstances it seems like a perfectly good metaphor for everything in his life. Mess and effort and nothing good. Except. He smiles reluctantly as someone brushes their lips over the back of his neck, catches it and stops himself, hunches his shoulders in grumpily. He doesn't want to be appeased.

"Bad day, Bits?" Chowder says, and slips his arms around Bitty's waist. Bitty holds himself stiffly away and Chowder nuzzles the side of his neck again. "Bits..." he coaxes.

He lets his shoulders droop. "Hey Chowder," he says, still aiming for grouchy (but mostly missing) and leans into his chest a little, without really intending to.

"That's it, Bitty baby," he says, Bitty can hear the smile in his voice, and can't repress his own, even if it's ruining his sulk. Chowder licks up Bitty's ear, and then blows gently over the wet skin. "C'm on," he urges, and nibbles at his neck. Bitty shudders.

"'s cheating," he complains, but his heart's not in it and Chowder knows it. He tugs Bitty away from the counter and turns him around. "If the plums catch--" he warns and Chowder smiles down at him, and kisses him lightly. 

"It smells really good. What are you making? We won't let it burn, promise!"

Bitty is already half smiling, and gives in. "Galette," he says, and wraps his hand around the back of Chowder's head. "It's not burning, it's the --" 

Chowder kisses him quiet and Bitty gives in. Chowder's kisses are a delight, all sweet touches and happy little sounds, and Bitty loves that they get to do this. The fucking is good, and he loves all his guys, but sometimes he just wants this, tenderness and kindness, the comfort of uncomplicated physical warmth. They've even fallen asleep together while making out like this, just coiled up together, making out for happy dizzy hours until they drifted into contented sleep.

Chowder always smells good; it's like he brushes his teeth before he visits the Haus, and who knows, maybe he does. His arms are warm and strong, and he hauls Bitty in tight, wraps him up in the best hug, and Bitty closes his eyes, and kisses back, already letting go of the endless day he's had. 

Chowder is hard against him, and Bitty's starting to stiffen up too, with Chowder's thick thigh pressing in between his. They both twist a little, and the pressure against his dick switches up from nice to mind blowing, grinding hot and hard against each other. He loves the little humming sounds Chowder makes, they're sweet and delicious, like his kisses, like him.

A scent -- sweet, thick, just on the edge of burning -- catches his attention and he pulls back a fraction of an inch, and says, "Hold that thought, honey. I need two whisks of a cat's tail and I will be right back." Chowder laughs.

"Aww, Bits--" 

He loves his Chowder, but he can smell that the plums are ready, and he leans over without looking, finds the handle of the pan and removes it from the heat. 

"We don't have a cat, but sure." He laughs. He loosens his arms around Bitty, lets them slide down to his waist as Bitty turns, then steps in closer, rubbing his face in Bitty's hair. "You smell so good," he tells him happily.

"Pie," Bitty says, amused, and carefully lays out the sliced plums, then adds the plum sauce from the pan. "Ain't exactly traditional," he apologises, "But it comes out a smidge moister, and the plums weren't all as ripe as they could be, so--" Chowder bites the side of his neck and he stops. "Sorry."

"You breaking rules too, Bits," Jack says. He sounds amused, and Chowder's arms tighten around him.

"No," Chowder says, and Bitty squeezes his arm.

"It's okay. Now, let me put this in Betsy, and we'll discuss rules and the breaking of them, Mr Zimmermann," he says, a lot more cheerfully than he felt ten minutes before. The plums and the pastry have worked their magic, and he's already feeling more settled.

He sets the timer and turns back to Jack, looping an arm around Chowder's waist. Ransom is typing away with renewed intensity and Holster is gripping the edges of his laptop with white knuckled hands. Presumably Shitty has moved on.

Jack smiles at the two of them. "No hate baking, Bits."

"Vague baking," Ransom offers without breaking from typing.

"Do you bake at me, sir," comes from under the table, and Holster snorts with laughter. 

"I do not bake at you, sir," Bitty grins slowly, "But I do bake." He bites his thumb, and Shitty emerges, sees him and shrieks with laughter.

"Really Bits? Romeo and Juliet?" Jack says, and Bitty smirks.

"Baz Luhrmann," he says, well aware of the chirping he's about to get, and is not disappointed.

"All is right with the world," Shitty declares. "Bits still knows nothing."

"Call me Jon Snow and send me to the Wall," he agrees blithely. "If you don't want pie hereafter, that is."

"I take it back!" He extracts himself from under the table and crawls over to Bitty. "Don't ban me from the pies, Bits."

Chowder giggle-snorts. "I think I know a way you could make it up to Bits," he says, and Shitty kneels up, grips the tag of Bitty's flies with his teeth, and pulls the zip down slowly.

"Oh hey, you could be onto something, Chowder," Ransom smirks. 

"Hey, what about me?" Holster protests, and Jack and Ransom glance at each other, and down at Holster's lap, then start a slap fight over who gets to give him a handjob.

Bitty combs his fingers through Shitty's hair, and sighs happily as he's sucked to full hardness and into climax. Shitty smiles up at them, and Chowder beams down at him. Bitty leans his head on Chowder's shoulder happily, and laughs.

"You guys," he says fondly. All the weight of the day is gone.


End file.
